The Origin of the Nightmare
by MissPiggy97
Summary: The story of Count Dracula became the figure of nightmares was never explored by Bram Stoker nor by myself until I was set this as an assessment in college. This is my take on the origin story of the vampire that started it all.


As a child I had always hated playing outside and never enjoyed the caress of the sun on my face. And when I was inside I had always asked for the curtains to be drawn yet no one ever listened to me.

It was not until my parents died and I became the Count of our caste that I got my wish; the curtains would be open till noon then closed until mid-afternoon to protect my eyes from the harsh rays of light.

Soon I began to shun the life outside of my castle. The heavy curtains remained closed all day at my request and were opened only when the moon began its rise in the inky sky.

The lack of sun on my skin made me pale. My once healthy complexion had withered until its only source of colour was from my eyes; they stood out like two glowing orbs against the snowy landscape of my face.

As time wore on I also began to miss meals until the only sustenance I had were morsels for breakfast. I had taken on a corpse-like appearance; this new identity was most definitely hidden from the world.

Each week the servants would turn away the priest who came in place of me going to church until one day I was renounced from God's favour.

The day I caught my finger on a rusty nail was the day that changed everything. I stood watching the crimson liquid bubble up to the top of my outstretched pointer and without thinking I had raised it to my mouth and tasted the liquid of life.

My taste buds had been rejuvenated but instead of food I craved the refreshment that flowed through my veins.

Intrigued by my new discovery I began ordering servants to cut themselves and empty their life-blood into goblets. Although frightened, they abided my wish and fed me their blood.

I was soon returning to full health. The nutrition from the blood was keeping me alive, instead of sitting and watching the moon dance across the sky, I would stand on the balconies of my fortress and harmonise to the howls of the rabid wolves below.

My secret had been kept safe until a new girl had been appointed. She stayed in my service for merely a week before fleeing when asked to donate some of blood.

Below in the mountains, the news of my lifestyle spread through the girls hometown before we were unable to stop her. I was branded a creature of the night, a murderer. The rumours were simply added to when the girl was found in her bed with her throat cut.

As new generations entered he village, the tale intensified. It said that I was an immortal being who had stalked the Carpathian Mountains for centuries when in fact I was merely 30 years old.

A young woman from the village who had been outcast from society sought refuge in my castle. I of course obliged in the hope of redeeming my reputation. Alas, she too was corrupted by the taste for blood and over time became known as simply, the Sister of Dracula.

Two other women followed in her footsteps once I had offered them a place to rest their heads while on their travels. My 'sisters' were now three; I had more family than I had ever dreamt of.

A gentle relationship had bloomed between myself and the women, one of friendship, nothing sordid as the villagers would have you believe. We kept one another company through the long days and enjoyed the sight of the pearl moon in the night.

Unfortunately they grew out of control; at night they would travel to the town and entice men back to the castle and drain them. I begged them to stop and threatened to throw out and let the wolves have their way but I could not bring myself to break apart my family so instead I turned a blind eye to their behaviour.

It was not until I sought a house in London, England that everything began to fall apart.

I had longed to move away from this place and to a new world where I could hide away and not have my past follow me. Yet, my plans were ruined when my young solicitor travelled to visit me and my sisters attacked him.

And so, the story of the murderous, mischievous immortal; Count Dracula, began.

Simply because the sun had hurt my eyes.


End file.
